Gemini
by reen212000
Summary: John Sheppard woke to a world of body switching, telepaths, and shapeshifters. Must be a Tuesday. A sequel to Through a Mirror, Home.
1. Chapter 1

Challenge #32 on LJ – If I told you, I'd have to kill you.

oOoOoOo

Freya McAllister wondered just when exactly she became Brendan Dean's keeper. Yes, they were partners. Yes, they worked together like a well-oiled machine. But they didn't spend all of their time together.

When she entered the New York branch office of the NSA, Kunzel seized her arm, frantic. Brendan had missed an early morning meeting, and Harper was furious. The agent's inner turmoil and concern was more for his job than Brendan's well-being, but Freya could understand his distress.

Director Harper, on the other hand, was more concerned than angry. He knew about Agent Dean's extra-curricular activities, Brendan still felt he needed to make up for lost time.

It had been six months since Brendan was kidnapped, and in his opinion, three weeks of recovery had been purely unnecessary. Nevertheless, he worked himself into the ground, as per usual, and now it was Freya's job to dig him out.

Two weeks ago, Agent Dean had been tossed a case by the CIA involving one Doctor Rodney McKay. Finally getting one step ahead of the resourceful astrophysicist, Brendan caught him and sent the man back to his own reality. The building burned to the ground, taking with it all evidence to catalog.

Soon after, Brendan received strange phone calls, and a small package arrived on his desk yesterday. The agent took the package home last night; Freya watched him tuck it under his arm along with other files.

Just a regular Monday.

Brendan had walked her to her apartment, then presumably, to his own, eight blocks away. Freya had tried to listen to his thoughts, but they were scattered and erratic enough to keep her at bay. It was the way his mind worked, especially during cases.

Freya finally reached Brendan's third floor apartment, more than a little miffed. While she was still in the observatory phase, she wanted very much to take the training classes for the research department at the NSA. Also, the books Michael gave her about interrogation techniques were already devoured, whetting her appetite for more.

Raising her hand to knock, Freya cast out to see if she could hear her partner inside. The only sound was a faint thud, almost like a body hitting hardwood.

"Brendan?" Fumbling in her pockets, she pulled out spare keys. "I'm coming in, so you better be decent."

Opening the door slowly, Freya was assaulted by the tangle of confused thoughts and images. Brendan sat on the floor with his back against the sofa, shaking violently. His head rested on his drawn knees, lanky arms wrapped tightly around them.

"Brendan!" Kneeling down, Freya gently touched him to examine his body.

Lifting his head, Brendan squinted up at her. _:Who are you? Where am I?: _Flinching away from her touch, he opened his eyes fully. "What… What do you want? I –" _:I don't know you! Stay away! Where's Rodney? What's going on here? God, I feel sick. What did you do to me?:_

Freya raised both hands, hoping he would calm. "Brendan, I need you to focus. Are you hurt?"

_:Brendan?:_ Squeezing his eyes shut, the man in question thought of his past day. A shining pool of water and light; his hand on another man's shoulder. Snatches of a conversation between them; the other man calling him an idiot, as he flashed amused blue eyes.

_Oh my God! That's Rodney McKay! _

Freya sat heavily on the floor. "You're not Brendan Dean. Who are you?"

The man who was not Brendan Dean smiled a cruel smile, and opened his eyes. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

oOoOoOo

To say Radek Zelenka was an ambitious man would be an understatement. He strove to be the best in his field, and only wanted the finest in all things material. Everything was going along at a fair clip, allowing Zelenka total dominance over Lockton Engineering's theoretical division. Then Rodney McKay swooped in, taking everything Radek had worked for on its ear.

Glancing over at the boxes of notes and items, Zelenka cringed at the knowledge the boxes contained. He would never admit defeat when it came to Rodney McKay. As McKay climbed higher, Zelenka's star dimmed. Soon, the rival scientist was in Elizabeth's pocket. Unfortunately, the man was good.

Damn good.

The man said he was a genius, and there was no doubting his words when he could back it up with irrefutable evidence.

McKay started the Pegasus Division, centering on strange and unusual items obtained by a secret branch of the U.S. Military. He didn't have any interpersonal skills whatsoever, but Rodney McKay handled generals and other military staff effortlessly. Zelenka was surprised to find the abrasive doctor even had a sense of humor.

Soon after Rodney McKay arrived, he usurped Radek's position as resident brainchild. Not only that, McKay knew exactly what some of these objects did, even turned them on. Zelenka was out, moved to the Atlantis Division without so much as a thank you, working for idiot marine biologists and oceanographers.

Then suddenly, things went sideways. McKay was pursued by every alphabet organization in North America. The arrogant man vanished without a trace, and it seemed the only person who could catch him was Brendan Dean of the NSA.

Dean was barely a step behind McKay, somehow anticipating his next move. The agent caught up with McKay, but the scientist managed to slip away, destroying all evidence in a secret location. Dean brought a box to the main office recovered from McKay's apartment. The man looked exhausted as he dropped the box at the front desk.

One object had caught his attention; Dean was entranced by a glassy green orb. Zelenka had watched the surveillance over and over until he was sure. The orb dimmed until it was dark, and the agent blinked several times.

Looking over his notes, Zelenka smiled. Yes, Brendan Dean was a perfect subject. And that box was a ticket out of Lockton.

Even with his clearance, it took Radek nearly a day to get the agent's home address. Adjusting his binoculars, he could see the object of his obsession staring blankly out the window. Radek thought himself fortunate being able to spy on an NSA agent instead of the other way around. The corner apartment he had rented for the week would pay off – he was sure of it!

Brendan Dean had finally opened the package Zelenka sent a week ago. The agent studied it for a few minutes then tossed it back on his cluttered desk. That was all the object needed; once it was on, it drew power from whomever touched it last. Rodney McKay's notes were extensive, and somewhat cryptic regarding this device, but Radek was a genius too. He would figure out what it did soon enough.

The evening came swiftly as Zelenka kept notes. "Subject seems exhausted hours after turning on the object. Whether the object has a specific On/Off switch is undetermined; nevertheless, it is on. Object is faintly glowing a blueish-green color, getting brighter when the subject is near."

He watched Dean pick up the orb once more and gaze out the window. The agent's vacant eyes zeroed in on Zelenka's location, looking directly at him. The scientist shook the odd feeling off, laughing at himself. He moved to the left, only to have the other man track him. "That's impossible. He cannot – There is no way he can see me."

Dean blinked slowly once, and stumbled away from the window. He appeared in the window of the bedroom, dropping heavily onto the bed. The agent listed sideways, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"Note: Subject may have acquired extra-sensory abilities through object. Search McKay's notes for enhanced abilities."

Watching the sleeping man, Zelenka's plan changed.

oOoOoOo

John woke with a start. Reluctantly, he rose from the amazingly comfortable bed. He didn't like feeling so drained; the last time he felt like this, he had been playing light switch for Rodney all day.

Which gave him an idea.

Sitting upright, he closed his eyes, concentrating on his surroundings. There. A slight hum to his left. On. _Ononon._

"Oh my God. What is Ancient tech doing here?"

Standing, John walked around the enormous bed. Holding his hands out, palms up, he tried to feel out where the tech was hidden. The longer he sought its location, the more sensitive his body became. A slight tug came in the direction of an antique chest of drawers. Opening the top drawer, John found a softly glowing orb.

"Now where did you get this?" Sending a thought to the object, the greenish glow winked off. Immediately, the draining feeling ceased, allowing John to relax. Taking a deep breath, he palmed the orb, and walked out of the room.

The woman who had helped him earlier sat in a recliner, flipping channels. She smiled, hearing John walk into the room.

"Hello," he drawled. "I didn't know you stayed." Toying with the cool glass orb, he eyed her closely. "Thanks, by the way."

Turning off the TV, the woman let her eyes rove over the stranger. Same body, different thoughts. She opened her mind to his scattered thoughts as he turned Brendan's paperweight in his hand. "Ancient tech? What's that? And where did you find that?"

John felt his brows scramble upwards; he was unable to maintain his usual schooled bland expression. "I didn't say anything."

She rose smoothly from the chair to stand in front of him. "Sorry. You don't have his memories, do you?" Sighing, she knew the answer. Looking him in the eye, she held out her hand. "Freya McAllister."

Recapturing his mask, John smiled and stepped back from her outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you. Look, I don't want to keep you, so –"

Freya took a step forward. "It's okay, John."

_:I didn't --:_

"Yes, you did tell me. I'm a telepath, John." She felt his mind still within; it was an odd feeling when someone stopped thinking. "And you, my friend, are a disturbing individual."

John laughed low and dangerous. "Well, that's a little too science fiction-y even for me."

"That's not even a word." Putting her hands in her pockets, Freya tilted her head. "You know, telepathy is normal around here. Body switching is definitely sci-fi."

"Touchè," he said, smile finally reaching his eyes. "So, any idea where this Brendan guy got this?"

Moving to the cluttered desk, Freya picked up a small box. "Looks like it came from Lockton Engineering." She handed it over to John. "That's where Rodney McKay worked."

Images of McKay and other people flashed through his mind as he grabbed the box. McKay scowling, laughing, talking incessantly, waving hands, drinking cup after cup of coffee. "This is the reality he came to? Why would – How –"

"He didn't send it," Freya answered, hearing his thoughts. "Someone named Kavanagh –"

A dark glare stopped her; this wasn't a good look. In fact, she couldn't recall Brendan ever having that look in his eyes. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the dark cloud lifted.

_:Rodney's gonna be pissed.:_

Freya chuckled at his thoughts of a ranting McKay. Sorry I didn't get to know the guy. "Who's Kavanagh?" she asked.

Images of a man with glasses and a ponytail assailed her, along with vicious thoughts of bugs and monsters.

"An ambitious, deceitful, weasel-like creature who calls himself a scientist. And, apparently, thoughtless and selfish to have sent this here. It means he's up to something."

"So this guy exists in your reality."

John shrugged. "He can't be too different. In theory, most alternate realities retain the personalities of its subjects."

"Well," Freya sighed. "We have a place to start."

Pointing to the address on the box, his eyes hardened. "How far? It's been a long time since I've been to the East Coast."

Freya puzzled at this statement, but thought better of asking him about it. "Hour, hour and a half. We'll have to get a car though."

John's brows scrunched together. "What?"

"Since you – um, Brendan – didn't go to work this morning, he hasn't signed out a car."

"Okay," he drawled. "And where does he work?"

Flopping back into the chair, Freya crossed her long legs. "The NSA," she said, casually bouncing her foot. "So you better get dressed."

"Hmm," John straightened, and tossing the object to Brendan's partner. "I definitely better get dressed. The NSA, huh? Cool."

Showering quickly, he tried and failed not to look at the body that was his, but not. Brendan was just as lean as the colonel himself, however, the pale skin lacked the amount of scars John had accumulated over the years. He was a little concerned with the bruises. _:A pencil-pusher should not have this many bruises.:_

John dried as he chose clothes from Brendan's closet. _:This guy was probably born in a suit.:_ Finally he found a pair of jeans, grabbed one of the many white shirts, and a black sports jacket. Sometimes, John felt this was his uniform while on Earth; it was comfortable protection. For the first time all morning, he felt better. The shoulder holster and Walther P99 inside it helped a little, too.

Leaving the bedroom, John felt he could face whatever this reality threw at him.

"Well, it looks like you clean up nice, too." Freya said from the kitchen. "Not sure about the hair, though."

_:Everyone picks on my hair.:_ As she approached, John saw a travel mug in her hand. "Oh you are an angel," he said gratefully. If it weren't for Rodney, John would never know what decadent coffee tasted like.

"Brendan considers good coffee his only vice. With the hours he keeps, it's a wonder he doesn't have an IV pole dragging behind him."

John tilted his head thoughtfully. "If he's in my body, and has interacted with McKay, they should get along well enough." Taking several sips, he arranged his questions internally. "So. The NSA. What do I need to know?"

Smiling a bit sadly, Freya took a few sips from her mug. "First thing. Agent Brendan Dean has an eidetic memory."

John let a low whistle escape. "Wow. Really? I'm good, but not that good."

"He has amazing recall, even if he's in motion."

"Great. Hope there's no pop quizzes," John grumbled as he shrugged into his jacket. "The next thing?" When she didn't respond, he turned to face her, and caught her staring. "What?"

Snapping out of it, she gave an embarrassed grin. "It's just... Well, Brendan would never wear that."

"It's his day off. Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, you did mention something about being born in a suit."

_:That is unnerving.:_ he thought, but said nothing aloud.

"Sorry." Freya followed him out of the apartment, fumbling with keys. "Okay, so since he doesn't wear that, be prepared for questions and stares. Terri is gonna flip!"

"Terri?"

Again, she felt his mind still, ready to receive information. Pulling a badge and another set of keys out of her pocket, Freya thought of the next point on her list. "Merriweather. She's your right hand researcher, and she thinks of Brendan as her little brother."

_:Is there anyone who doesn't fuss over this guy?:_ "This just gets better and better. All right," he frowned, opening the door to the street. "A badge, and I'm guessing pattern rec, plus a swipe."

"Yep. Regular spy stuff."


	2. Chapter 2

oOoOoOo

Radek swiveled in his chair, thinking of the past. Thoughts of his beautiful Kristyna playing with their children, laughing, and sleeping nearly had him weeping with grief. Yes, there were many choices that led Radek to this point in his life. If only he had complied with his government and built what they needed. If only he had not postponed their family vacation because of work. If only he had paid closer attention to the politics of his work environment.

If only.

Radek actually enjoyed his work with Lockton, even liked his boss, Elizabeth. But at the end of the day, all CEOs were the same. Deadlines, bottom lines, and idiot coworkers. He merely wanted the respect he deserved.

If the orb did what it was thought to do, it would get him back to Pegasus Division. It was important to wipe out the memory of Rodney McKay.

Pondering the probability of Ancient memory devices, he missed hearing the door to his office opening.

"Doctor Zelenka," the smooth voice inquired.

Bitterness welled on his tongue as he smiled. "Elizabeth. What brings you all the way to Atlantis Division?"

Seating herself in a guest chair, Elizabeth crossed her legs casually. "I heard your team hit a snag with the Puddlejumper."

He hated that name. "Yes, the miniplane hit minor setback. But we are confident it will be back on schedule next week."

"Listen, Radek. I know this time of year is difficult for you." Reaching a hand out, Elizabeth touched his hand. "If you'd like to take a few days –"

"Da, yes, yes," he answered, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "I think I will."

"Good," she said, offering a hopeful smile. "I'm sure Kavanagh can pick up where you left off." Rising, she clasped her hands behind her back.

Schooling his expression, Radek settled for a bland smile. "Thank you, Elizabeth."

Walking toward the door, she paused. "One other thing. The box you took from Agent Dean is missing an item. Any ideas?"

Radek's lips flattened to a thin line. "I am afraid not. What does it look like?"

Waving a dismissive hand, Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm sure it'll turn up. Get some rest, and I'll see you in a few days."

As soon as she left the office, she motioned to one of her personal security teams. "Mister Bates. I need you to follow him."

"Shouldn't be a problem, Ma'am."

"If he makes contact, get the agent out of there."

The tall ex-Marine nodded. "Want us to bring him here?"

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, seeing Zelenka leave his office. "Yes. I'll need Douglas and Kavanagh to undo whatever it that he's done."

"Yes, Ma'am." In the blink of an eye, Bates was gone.

"And, Bates, remember," she murmured. "He has a detector to find the unseen. Use caution."

"Always," Bates said; she could almost see the smirk on his invisible face.

"I need that orb intact."

A wisp of air, and the brush at her sleeve was the only sign that Bates had left. When Elizabeth returned to her office, she immediately picked up the phone. "Doctor Kavanagh. I have a project for you."

oOoOoOo

A train ride later, they walked toward the NSA building. It was like every other government building, nondescript in every way. John still felt a little thrill as it came into view. He had the highest clearance in the galaxy, but entering the nation's think tank for guarding secrets made him feel very small.

"You're like a kid," Freya said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "But you gotta stop with the expressions. Harper'll think you've really lost it."

"Harper? Director?"

"Yep. He really likes Brendan, but has a tendency to be a little stern."

"Lemme guess. Brendan is the ultimate overachiever. Never able to please anyone. How am I doin' so far?"

Freya shrugged. "Understatement, of course. But you get the idea." She let his chaotic thoughts ease into her mind. The suddenly they sharpened, becoming more focused and organized. John was memorizing directions, streets, alternate routes, landmarks, and assessing threats. It was very… "What branch of military?"

John's brows winged toward his hairline. Halting abruptly, he turned to face her. With a cold smile, John offered his hand. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force.

Giving her own cool smile, Freya took his hand, ignoring his heavy duty mental shields. "Now, was that so hard?"

The smile finally reached his eyes. _:I have issues. Sue me.:_

"How do you do that?" Freya asked, as they entered the building.

"Do what?"

"You have the ability to block me without any effort. Brendan has never been able to do that."

That infamous mask slipped into place; it was even more effective than Brendan's. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Her next question was interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

"Should I answer?"

Freya shrugged. "Who is it?"

John pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. "The Judge. Who's that?"

"Um, that is Brendan's mom," Freya answered casually, pressing the button for the elevator. "She's a criminal court judge. Hey, are you okay?"

Nodding, he tried to draw breath. _:Does she look like my mom? Is my dad still alive? How close are our lives?:_

"Whoa! Whoa! John? You need to breathe."

Grabbing his arm, she lifted his hand to swipe the badge. After using the pattern recognition pad, she leaned him carefully against the wall. The elevator dinged, and Freya propelled him out into the office, ignoring the flinch every time she touched him. She directed the dazed man to a desk. "Okay. This is his desk, take a minute. I'll get you some water."

"Wow. You really do look horrible."

Blinking myopically, John focused on the tiny brunette standing in front of his desk. Her oversized glasses made him think of a librarian.

"Shoulda stayed home, if you ask me."

Frowning, John regarded her blandly. "Had to take care of some things, he answered quietly.

Her brows scrunched together as her blue eyes skimmed over John's face. "Well, I hope it's not a new case. If Harper catches you, he'll put you on house arrest."

John smiled. "I'll try to keep my head down."

"Ha! Now that I'd like to see." Tilting her head, she studied him, as if trying to memorize everything about him. "I don't believe – no, I know – I've _never_ seen you in jeans. Didn't even know you owned a pair."

"Well," he drawled. "I try not to wear a suit for at least three hours out of the week."

She laughed quietly, blushing. Glancing over his head, her smile disappeared. "You guys better get going. Harper'll be out of his morning fleecing in a few."

John cast out a thought for his partner. Like magic, she appeared at his side, handing over a glass of water. He took it gratefully, gulping it down.

"Hey, Terri," she greeted. Placing a hand on John's shoulder, Freya sighed. "Feel better?"

"Getting there," he said. Spotting Brendan's phone in her hand, John tilted his head. _:Making calls?:_

"Actually, I talked to your mom. She had to cancel lunch, so she'll call back to reschedule."

"Lucky me," John said, closing his eyes against a wave of dizziness. _:This is really getting old.:_

"You okay?" Terri asked, concern widening her eyes. :_People should not get that pale!:_

"Yeah," he answered, rising slowly. "Looks like I'm free for lunch Maybe we could –"

"Oh! I'm so sorry! You probably haven't eaten anything all day. Let's go." Waving to Terri, Freya told John about Brendan's favorite sandwich shop.

"Mind driving? I don't think it's a good idea to walk that far right now."

Freya shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem. I need to practice my parallel parking anyway," she said, grinning brightly as she caught the keys.

"You're kidding, right?"

oOoOoOo

"Mila moy!"

John blinked at the onslaught of Russian. A short man came from behind the deli counter apparently scolding him; he'd heard that same tone from Radek on numerous occasions. Instinctively, he responded in stilted Russian, stumbling through a greeting.

He had picked up the language almost by accident. There were two Russian-Americans in his unit, and they constantly spoke the language. A word, or a phrase later, he could stumble through a conversation.

"Tee hochesh kushat?"

"Um, yeah, da," John nodded, hoping Brendan spoke Russian. "Ya go lod nee. Spasibo, dedushka."

The little man smiled with pride, patting John's arm. "Sa dees. Would you like your favorite?"

"Lev! Leave the boy alone," an even shorter woman waved him away. "Always pestering. Chicken salad, Freya?"

"Yes, Sofia. Thank you." The telepath laughed out loud as they sat down. "Are you sure you're not Brendan?"

John snorted. "Smeshno." The couple chattered, as they made sandwiches. _:He has so many people looking out for him.:_ John was rarely homesick; right now he felt it with every fiber of his being. _:I gotta get home._:

"Workin' on it, Colonel." Leaning forward, she clasped her hands together. "Don't worry," she said, tilting her chin toward the couple. "They do that to Brendan all the time."

A very large reuben appeared in front of John, complete with a kosher spear and homemade chips. The aroma made John's stomach growl loudly.

"Ty esh, mila moy," Lev laughed heartily. "You need some color." Patting John on the shoulder, Lev wandered over to assist other customers.

"I'm never gonna eat all this. Want half?"

Freya rounded her eyes as she swallowed a bite of her salad. "Oh no! Sophia would kill me."

oOoOoOo

Finally on the road toward Lockton, John shifted uncomfortably in the drivers' seat. _He is so much like Brendan_, Freya mused as she listened to his buzzing thoughts, and mumbled lyrics to songs. Apparently John liked The Man in Black, assorted jingles, and theme songs.

"You know, you don't have to do that."

_:What?:_ "Oh, the… thing. I'm just a little... um. How can you not read thoughts all the time?"

"I don't really need to. It does come in handy during interrogation, though. But you know that already."

John tilted his head in deference. "So, parallel parking?" He felt he had to keep the conversation going; lethargy pulled at him in a way he never felt. There seemed to be no way of keeping the orb powered down long enough to rest. _:This is too important for a student driver.:_ As soon as the unshielded thought entered his mind, John cringed. "Sorry."

Freya smiled tightly. "I already passed Driver's Ed. Flying colors and everything."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied. "After being cooped up in a mental hospital for eight years, I decided I might need to get around on my own."

Before John could form the next question, a black SUV suddenly came out of nowhere. John swerved to avoid it, pulling the car to the right. Cutting off the next car, he ran through a series of maneuvers before deciding on three.

Freya reeled, marveling at the sheer amount of mental control the colonel possessed. While he only let her see and hear what he wanted, there were instances in their short time together when she experienced true peace. The silence was warm and comforting.

This was not one of those times.

John began figuring trajectories; the numbers flashed so quickly as he calculated probable scenarios, Freya was nearly caught in an endless loop.

Then everything stopped.

Opening eyes she wasn't aware she'd closed, Freya grasped the door handle. John's mind was a static buzz of concentration as he focused on the road ahead.

"Sorry about that," he said with a smile. "We have some very persistent company."

Looking behind her, she saw the black SUV following in hot pursuit. "Who are they?"

"Funny," John drawled. "I was gonna ask you the same thing."

Another big black car appeared ahead, blocking their escape. Slamming on the brakes, John narrowly avoided hitting the vehicle. Their car came to a screeching halt alongside the second SUV.

The first SUV pulled up on the other side, blocking any other means of escape on the suspiciously empty road.

"You noticed that too, huh?" she asked, looking around them.

"Yeah. Now I wonder why they're so interested in us." John made a move to open his door, only to hear the sound of safeties clicking off too many guns. He didn't have to turn around to know at least one was pointed at his partner.

A man in a long black coat opened John's door, motioning him out with the barrel of his gun.

"You know, I don't usually play this hard to get –"

The man backhanded John for his trouble. "Be quiet! You will come with us."

_:Russian? Czech?:_ He had to hear more. "So, what's this all about? I didn't think we were speeding."

"No more talking. You will come."

With all the guns pointed toward them, John and Freya complied. The door of the second SUV opened for them. John froze as he saw the man inside the car.

"Radek?"

oOoOoOo

:hit that button over there for more! do it now!:


	3. Chapter 3

oOoOoOo

"They did what?" Elizabeth rocketed from her seat at the conference table. With her hand tightly clasping her phone, she marched out of the room, and straight to her office. In her wake, her assistant, Peter, dismissed the meeting, running after her.

"No, no. Just wait. He may not do anything. Keep an eye on him. However, if those agents are in harm's way, do not hesitate to subdue him." Elizabeth let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mister Lorne. And tell Bates to use that so-called experience of his and infiltrate!" Ending the call, she motioned for her assistant to enter the office.

"Director Harper is parked on 101, Doctor Weir," he said urgently. "And no, I still can't read your mind." Smiling, he left her to her call.

Elizabeth would've smiled at the running joke, if she wasn't piecing together everything she knew about Radek Zelenka. The man in question was normally sweet, maybe a little distant. _Geniuses usually were._ After such a difficult life, she had hoped his troubles had lessened.

Rodney McKay and Radek had a love/hate relationship, arguing constantly. They suited each other, and spent indeterminable hours together, even to the point of finishing each other's sentences. They revamped the science, biology, and engineering departments; even Kavanagh was a pleasure to work with those days.

But something went wrong. Rodney started the Pegasus Division, and McKay and Zelenka parted ways. Their amiably heated arguments became angry and spiteful. Rodney usually came out on top; his words were sharpened instruments that left debris and chaos.

Elizabeth was aware of the rift, but Pegasus was too important to lose. Lockton wasn't in trouble, yet with the imminent demise of so many around them, their position was suddenly stable with Rodney onboard.

"Please hold for Director Harper," a voice said over the speaker.

"Doctor Weir. What can I do for you today?"

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the receiver. "John, hello. I apologize for calling your direct line, but this is important."

"I figured as much. What happened?"

"I'm afraid I have bad news. One of my scientists may have kidnapped two of your agents."

"You're kidding," Harper said very quietly.

"I'm afraid not, Director. We believe he sent an item to Agent Dean, and has been conducting an unauthorized experiment."

"An exper-- I swear, that kid –" Grumbling his way to silence, the director sighed. "Where?" he asked grumbled.

Elizabeth searched the surface of her desk for a meticulously penned note from Peter. The small piece of paper contained an address. "Presently, Radek Zelenka is holed up at our former offices, near Chestnut Ridge."

"Just before the Jersey border, right? Thank you, Doctor Weir. We'll take it from here."

"Wait!" She was afraid of his final statement. "Please don't hurt Doctor Zelenka! He's been through so much—"

"No promises, Elizabeth. He's taken two of my agents, possibly by force. You say he's under some sort of duress, so there's no telling his mindset."

"It's just that—"

"I'm aware of your position, but you must understand mine. We'll do our best, but again, no promises. I'll keep you apprised of our progress." With an audible click, the line went dead.

Turning away from the window, Elizabeth sat down heavily, chair creaking in protest. After taking several deep breaths, she reached for the phone again. "Calvin. I need all of Rodney McKay's notes on the orb device."

"Um, sorry, Doctor Weir. Doctor Zelenka took every scrap of information—"

"There's absolutely no back-up on any hard drive?"

Sighing, Kavanagh shuffled around some papers. "I'll check again, but McKay's filing system was—"

"Just," Elizabeth interrupted sharply. "Please do what you can."

"Yes, Doctor Weir."

Ending the call, she rose to pace her office again. As long as this stayed out of the press, she wouldn't have to call her husband and partner. Mark had enough to deal with being out of the country. She would wait. This needs to be resolved. _Soon, I hope._

oOoOoOo

The blindfold was roughly pulled from his face. Blinking against the sudden light, John attempted to form his own sit rep. _:Four lane highway, heading southeast. Office complexes in the area? Possible. This room's been abandoned for a while, but there's electricity. Why is there always electricity in abandoned warehouses?:_

Snapping fingers brought him back to the here and now. Radek had been staring at John like a new specimen.

"You don't have to do this, Zelenka," John said quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Freya sullenly perched on a chair. "If you let us go now, nothing will happen to you."

"I would ask you how you know me, but I do not think I would like the answer." Shaking his head, Radek paced the little room. "It is too late, yes? So I intend to get what I came for."

"And that would be?"

Spinning to face his captive, Zelenka raised a severe finger. "Who are you? On outside, I see this Agent Brendan Dean. But you are not who you appear to be. The aura around you is something I've never seen."

"What are you talking about?" John shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. _:Freya? What's going on?:_ But she didn't move; a vapid smile was his only response. "Look, pal, I—"

"No!" Slamming a hand down on the table, Radek approached with hungry eyes. "You did it. You have switched bodies across dimensions! How?"

John was sure he'd never seen the Czech's blue eyes so intense. "I don't know—"

"Tell me!"

Shaking his head fiercely, John tried to make him see. "No. I can't. You can't."

"I think you should give him the device," Freya said, smile still curving her lips. "Go ahead. I'm sure Rodney wouldn't mind."

_:You're not Freya. What the hell is going on?:_

The woman beside him shifted and blurred, becoming a man in a blue jumpsuit with vacant eyes. "I can be whoever you want me to be," he said uncoiling from his perch on the desk.

_:This reality gets closer and closer to science fiction!:_

"Oh like yours is any better, sweetheart." The shape shifter sneered.

"Liam," Zelenka called quietly. "Please get our guest some water." He dragged a chair over, seating himself in front of John. "Now, tell me please, what is your real name?"

"You already know my name."

"You are wasting time. Again, what is your name?"

John snorted. "Han Solo."

A cruel smile creased his face; not something John ever wanted to see on the shorter man. "That is fine, Han. I will just have Liam get it from you later. But I am nicer, you see."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, John sat up straighter. "What do you want?"

"Ah, ah. I will ask the questions." Zelenka impatiently snapped his fingers at Liam, who morphed into a slinky woman.

Bringing the glass to John's lips, Liam's big blue eyes were vacant, void of personality. "Close your eyes. We have a surprise for you."

John didn't close his eyes, but drank shallowly from the glass. _:I know it's probably drugged, but I'll deal with that later.:_

Liam rolled his eyes. "It's not drugged. But I should've thought about that."

Giving his most charming smile, John let his eyes roam over Liam's new body. "Nice rack."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Liam giggled.

John shrugged. "Well, when you're a real girl, you'll be the first to know." Which earned him a left hook.

"Enough," Radek said calmly. Reaching in his pocket, he brought out the inevitable syringe. Moving quicker than he thought possible, John felt the prick of the needle in his shoulder. "Forgive Liam. He is impulsive, but... a bit empty. He does not actually change shape; he merely forces your mind to see what he wants you to see. Fascinating, really. I'm not sure if Liam is originally a girl or a boy."

Smiling sweetly, Liam pulled John's head back, forcing more water down. Sputtering, John felt the water in his stomach like a slowly melting ice cube. Things began to go fuzzy and soft; he relaxed further, slouching in the hard chair. _:Freya? Where are you? I–I'm drugged. They won't get anything. Don't know how this body will react.:_

"You shouldn't worry about your girlie friend. We took care of her." Stroking John's hair, Liam pushed deeper into John's mind.

John could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. It almost felt like the same pressure from Wraith queens when they probed his mind. This was familiar. This he could resist. Distantly, he felt a sting across his face. Someone – Liam? – slapped him.

"The drug works best when the heart rate is up. You may be feeling somewhat fuzzy by now." Sitting, Radek folded his hands in his lap. "What is your name?"

"Sam Beckett," John answered. _:Oh boy, do I feel like that guy!:_

"I'm sorry, Doctor Zelenka. He's blocking me," Liam pouted.

"What?" Radek came closer, studying his captive. "Very interesting."

"You know," John said, squinting up at the doctor. "I was expecting Kavanagh. He in on this?"

Zelenka waved a hand. "No, no. He is fall guy, red herring, whatever. Oldie, but goodie, yes?"

"No." As Radek's questions continued, John kept his mind busy, hoping for results from Liam. This earned him a punch in the arm. _:At least Brendan's good at compartmentalizing. That is such a long word. What is that? Six syllables? Rodney gave me an equation the other day. I think I should solve it. Did I solve it already? Wait, no. I was about half-way through my first proof.: _

Another hit. Another.

When it stopped, John hazarded a glance, cracking open one eye.

Leaning over, Liam rested his head on Radek's shoulder; he had morphed into a taller Rodney. "Numbers. That's all I hear is numbers!"

John nearly burst out laughing as the doctor stroked Liam's back. "It is all right, milaku. You rest now; I will take care of this."

Thug Number Two entered the room hesitantly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Doctor. But we have detected an Invisible on the premises."

Glaring at the interruption, Radek sighed, waving a hand. "Bates. Deal with him. It seems Elizabeth has learned a few things."

Opening both eyes, John watched the scientist pace the room. Once, on a very bad day, John had tried to picture an evil Radek plotting to kill Rodney. He failed to come up with a plausible image. They always had their differences, but somehow, they managed to stay friends.

"Twenty years ago, I took my family and fled our country. We lived very happily in Canada for years before coming to United States. When we felt safe again, my wife and I decided to move here, in hopes of blending in. Then, of course, they found us. I had been working for Lockton for a few years before they took action.

"These very bad men took my family. Threatened to do horrible things. All for a silly weapon."

"So lemme guess, they killed them anyway."

Shaking his head, Radek placed a chair in front of John. "Not right away, no. They asked for more, I made more. Due to my clearance, no questions were asked. Then Rodney came. I suddenly had no access to artifacts, and he suspected what I was doing. I cannot blame him entirely for what happened; he did offer to help."

"And you're hassling me, why?" John was starting to lose his patience.

Radek shrugged. "Because my clearance was revoked, I was unable to retrofit any artifacts. No weapons, no family. I tried everything to convince them otherwise, and eventually they lost interest in keeping anyone alive."

"So," John drawled. "You're not inherently evil. Good to know."

Chuckling softly, the doctor resumed pacing. "A man can become many things, however, none of that matters now. You have a device that will allow me to see my Kristyna again. I have taken the genetic mutation serum, so it is only a matter of time until I find the orb and activate it myself."

John tried to focus on the scientist's words with diminishing results. "Look, you don't know what it does. I –"

"Enough!" Taking off his glasses, Zelenka rubbed his temple. "Liam, please search the car." The shapeshifter bounded out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Shifting uneasily in the chair, John tried not to moan as his body listed to the right. Where was Freya?

oOoOoOo

Freya woke up in a windowless room. The darkness made it hard to focus on a single thought. But somewhere in the chaos, she heard a familiar voice speaking in numbers. Narrowing her focus, Freya listened as John disguised vital information behind a wall of equations.

_His mind is even more complex than Brendan's!_

Another mind poked around; she could feel it. This mind was very unique, chameleon-like in appearance. "Oh my –" Freya clamped down on her excitement. She had only heard stories about shapeshifter, not actually met one. They seemed like an urban legend.

Concentrating harder, the telepath eavesdropped on the interrogation. John's resistance was amazing, but painful. His mental shielding became stronger, apparently on instinct. Wherever this man came from, he had clearly done this before.

Suddenly the door to her_ closet prison banged open, revealing… no one. A presence fluttered near her, like a whisper in a sil_ent room. _:My name is Bates, Chief of Security for Lockton Enterprises. You're a telepath, right?:_

Freya nodded, knowing any sound would tip off Zelenka's people. More often than not, she wished she could speak mind-to-mind. Standing, she tried to ascertain where the man was standing.

_:If you follow me, we can plan a rescue for Agent Dean.:_

Nodding again, she walked out of the closet, guided by a light hand on her arm. Freya always wondered if Invisibles were corporeal enough to touch, even though she knew they only possessed the power to bend light.

_:My colleague, Lorne, is waiting at the north end of the building. I'm sure I've been detected already, but as long as you're safe, we'll deal with the rest.:_

"Okay," she whispered. Exiting the building, they ran for the road. A small car was parked behind an outbuilding.

"All right, the agent is on the third floor in a secondary office," Lorne reported when he caught his breath. "They're workin' him over pretty good, mentally, but he's seriously strong."

"Yeah, that shapeshifter is really pissed. Unfortunately, he searched the car, and found the object," Bates commented.

"So Zelenka has it." Lorne pursed his lips. "All right, we need to get a handle on this before the NSA arrives."

Freya perked up; if Director Harper was on his way, things would be just fine. "But that's good news, right?"

The two men glanced at each other. "Well, as long as the military doesn't hear about it, then we're fine," Lorne replied, half-smile playing on his lips. "And you don't want the military to find out."

For once, Freya could agree._ :Hang on, John! We're coming!:_

"Ouch!" Lorne winced. "What's with the yelling?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Sorry! Are you – well, obviously you are a telepath. Mindtalk?"

Lorne smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Need a message sent?"

"Yeah."

oOoOoOo

Liam reverently presented the orb to Radek, who smiled wolfishly as he held it.

"Very, very good, milaku."

The orb flashed on, glowing a slightly lighter shade of blue. Idly, John wondered if it turned different colors depending on the handler. _:Or maybe degree of ATA gene? I'll have to ask Rodney.:_

Liam broke into a grin, then shifted into the form of Rodney. "Finally! A new shape!" Tsking, 'Rodney' smiled. "You like this shape, but the sight of him makes you sad. Why?"

Cringing at the very familiar person standing before him, John looked away. Thankfully, Liam didn't sound like McKay. Clamping down on his output, he saw Liam shift back to himself.

"Aw, you're no fun."

The drug coursing through John's body suddenly sent the room spinning. His mind was losing control, and soon he wouldn't be able to control the information floating around in his head. _:I'm about to start blabbing, I can feel it.:_

_:Hang on, sir. We're coming to get you!:_ A kind voice murmured. _:Freya is safe; just keep doing what you're doing, Agent Dean.:_

Relief flooded through John as he brought up Rodney's equation again. Concentrating on each number and symbol, he nearly missed the faint gasp Radek emitted as his body slumped to the floor.

_:Well, he did it, Freya. He's gone.:_

Liam whimpered in a corner, out of John's line of sight. "Why did he leave me?" he whispered, over and over again.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, John focused his attention on the sounds outside the room. The report of guns and yelling meant the cavalry finally arrived.

A few minutes later, Freya burst into the room, followed by a tall black man. Her eyes rounded in horror. "Jo– Brendan! Are you okay?"

"Never better," he replied, lopsided smile curving the less painful side of his mouth. _:If I move right now, I may throw up. Actually, I may throw up no matter what happens.:_

"I'll consider myself warned." Kneeling down, Freya untied his hands. With a finger hooked in his collar, she kept him from slumping forward. "They drugged you?"

_:Yeah. But the worse is almost over. I think.:_

"Agent Dean, you and I are going to have a long talk," Harper scolded. Placing his hands on his hips, the director surveyed the room. "Let's get out of here. Patel, take care of the good doctor here."

As Agent Patel pulled the prone man upright, Zelenka woke in a flurry of Czech and waving hands. "Jak se – Who are you?"

"Doctor Radek Zelenka, I am placing you under arrest for the abduction of a Federal agent. You have –"

"Wait! I do not understand!" The man cast about frantically, his gaze finally landing on John. "Major?"

"Radek," John murmured, raising his hands. "This is gonna sound crazy but –"

"This cannot be you. You died a long time ago." Sadness filled the man's face as he bowed his head. He allowed the other agents to escort him away.

John shivered as the cool evening air breezed across his damp face. Leaving the building had been his first priority; the next would be explaining everything to this Radek Zelenka. Closing his eyes, John leaned into Freya more heavily. He was exhausted beyond belief, and there was a long drive ahead of them. Not to mention endless debriefings.

"Hey!" Someone called from behind. "Do we need this?"

Spinning around, John felt the orb begin to power up. _Off!_ he commanded, a little too late.

Freya and Patel found themselves holding up two collapsing bodies. Paramedics surrounded them, shoving them both roughly out of the way.

"What the hell is going on here?" Harper fumed, turning to Freya.

The telepath forced her eyes away from her partner's inert body to face the director. "Sir, we're gonna have to talk somewhere private."

"What? Fine," he waved her to his car.

When the doors closed, Freya took a deep breath. "Director, this is gonna sound a little – no, no, a lot – far-fetched. And you are so not going to believe me."

"I'll be the judge of that, if you don't mind, Miss McAllister. Spit it out."

Freya told the story as best she could without revealing John's true identity.

oOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4

oOoOoOo

When the two gurneys came busting through the Emergency doors, Carson Beckett knew there would be trouble.

"What's happened?" he asked, stilling his thoughts to accept information.

"First male, Brendan Dean, thirty-five, fell unconscious approximately thirty minutes ago. Dehydration and trauma were evident at the scene. Victim has been in and out of consciousness for the last ten minutes."

Carson quickly checked for serious injuries. Finding no broken bones, he moved to the next patient.

"Second male, Radek Zelenka, forty-one, fell unconscious at the same time. No other symptoms, Doc."

"Put them in Room Six," Beckett said absently. Something was very wrong here. Before he could put his finger on it, a tall man in a suit flashed a badge.

"John Harper, NSA Director. I need those two people in a separate room and under guard."

Carson nodded, knowing the drill. "Aye, they'll be moved just as soon as I assess their conditions." Turning on his heel, the doctor marched toward Triage.

As soon as he examined Brendan Dean, Carson knew what was wrong. Glancing at the other man, Carson saw the same problem. These men were out of time, out of synch with the rest of the world.

The doctor had been gifted with the ability to see true injury. Carson was sure there was a name for it, but for all intents and purposes, it could be boiled down to those few words. Brendan's body showed echoes of injuries and perceived hurt all over his visible skin. It was like seeing two people in the same body.

"Ghostwalking again, Doc?" Nurse Casey wandered ahead of him, carrying a tray of syringes. "Get a move on. The little guy is getting restless."

"Aye. Right."

oOoOoOo

When Carson finished cleaning up the agent, he sedated the agitated Czech. The director of the NSA was less than happy, even when Carson assured him both men would be better off with rest.

Now, the doctor was faced with an even harder decision. He has seen this ghost pattern before, a long time ago. _It's happened again, and there's no way to stop it._ Picking up the phone, Carson dialed a number he thought he'd forgotten. Or maybe he should have.

"General Hammond, please."

oOoOoOo

John woke to unfamiliar surroundings; it had been a long time since he'd been in a regular hospital. _:Still smells the same.:_

He heard a light chuckle to his right. Sitting in an overstuffed chair, Freya flipped through a magazine. "'Bout time you woke up." She looked over the pages, then glanced at her watch. "You've been asleep for two hours."

_:The orb?:_

"It's safe. Mister Lorne was very apologetic about activating it."

"Huh," John said, moving to sit up.

"Just what do ya think yer doin', laddie?" Carson Beckett swooped into the room, fussing like a mother hen. Some things never change. "How do ya feel?"

John frowned, assessing his body. "Fine, just really wrung out."

The doctor tsked. "Your mind was probed pretty heavily, understand. That damage has been healed to a point, but with some rest, you'll be right as rain."

The door of the private room opened, revealing a man and a woman.

_:Elizabeth?:_ John closed his eyes as if against a bright light.

Freya saw painful images of this woman dying. The other person had John shifting in his bed to sit up straight, despite his exhaustion. "General O'Neill?"

Tilting his head quizzically, the man smiled. "General, huh? Oh for the love of – How did that happen?"

"You're not?" John said, heart rate ticking up a notch.

"Nooo, son," Jack said emphatically. "Plain old Colonel."

Director Harper entered the room, and suddenly John felt nervous.

"Easy there, lad," Carson warned. John hadn't noticed the doctor holding his wrist all the while. "Let's make this short, ladies and gentlemen." Winking at his patient, Carson turned his patented blue stare on the visitors.

"Ten minutes, Doc. Swear," O'Neill said, bouncing on his feet. "Agent Dean, you may remember Doctor Elizabeth Weir-Lockton."

Trying not to let the surprise show on his face, John held out his hand. "Doctor. That's one heck of a mouthful you've got for a name."

Blushing, she shook his hand. "I know. My husband doesn't let me forget it, either." She deferred to Harper. "Director, I believe you know the colonel here."

"We just met," Harper grumbled. "And HQ has agreed to let you debrief my agents with the full cooperation of the NSA. However, we would like a copy of the report." :Who the hell are these people? Why do they have the ear of the Chief? The report goes straight to the top; I don't even get to see it!:

Freya nearly laughed out loud at Harper's frustrated thoughts. Turning away from her superior, she smoothed John's blankets. She felt John's gaze pin her in place. :I don't even have to be a telepath to know how he feels,: he mused.

"Understood, sir," O'Neill replied in a somber voice. "If you'll excuse me, gotta make a call." He left the room, pulling out a radio.

Elizabeth came forward, sad smile on her face. "On behalf of Lockton Engineering, I'd like to apologize –"

John put up his hand to stop her. "There wasn't much you could do about it this time. Doctor Zelenka would've acted on his own regardless."

"I appreciate that, Agent Dean. Security will be less lax in the future."

Chuckling, John shook his head. "If Bates is your Chief of Security, it can't get any tighter." Waving off her confusion, he sobered and glanced at Harper. "Is the military questioning Freya also?"

Nodding, Harper took a step towards her. "If that's all right with you. This project has one of the highest levels of classification, and the Air Force is particularly interested in your thoughts." :And other's thoughts.:

"Whatever I can do to help, sir."

Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her back. "Thank you, Miss McAllister. General O'Neill will return with a very tall stack of nondisclosure statements. After those are signed, all reports may be shared after debriefing."

:Ever the diplomat.: John thought, remorse flooding his every thought. Freya wanted to reach out to him; she never liked that look of regret on her partner's face. One more thing Brendan and John had in common.

"Well, while you're doing that," John said, plastering a smile on his pale face. "I'm taking a nap." With a jaw-cracking yawn, John turned on his side. Closing his eyes, he sought the now-familiar hum of the device. He felt nothing, which would've unsettled him if he weren't so tired.

"I guess that's our cue to leave," Elizabeth said, gesturing toward the door. "I wish you a speedy recovery, Brendan. And if there's anything I can do, please call."

Harper eyed both his agents warily. "Kunzel and Jacobs will be just outside the door if you need anything." :I really need to know what's going on here, Miss McAllister.: Turning, he held the door open for Elizabeth.

"Okay, boys and girls," Jack O'Neill announced. "Legal time. Got a pen?" When Harper and Weir left, they were replaced by Carson.

"Well now, we all settled?" He fussed with John's IV and blanket. "I knew he wouldn't last much longer." Disconnecting all monitors, the doctor raised the rails on the bed. He put a soothing hand on John's shoulder when the sleeping patient flinched.

Placing a hand on Freya's shoulder, O'Neill drew her to the bed. "Stick close, kids. Keep your hands and feet inside the ride."

"What?" A light engulfed them; Freya blinked against its brightness. Opening her eyes, she saw John still asleep, and Carson steering the bed away.

Looking around, Freya saw walls of gleaming steel and soft blue lights. People bustled everywhere, and no one seemed to care three people and a gurney just appeared in front of them.

"Miss McAllister –"

"Freya," she said absently, eyes roving the well-lit chamber curiously.

O'Neill cleared his throat. "Freya. Why don't you follow me. We can get started on that paperwork."

"The stuff I was supposed to sign before I came… here. Wherever here is."

The colonel waved a hand. "Eh, semantics. You woulda found out anyway, being telepathic and all."

Smiling, Freya followed O'Neill out of the busy chamber. "That device… It's got something to do with this, right?"

Shrugging, O'Neill continued silently down the corridor.

Silence.

Halting in her steps, Freya cast out all around her. There was no single thought floating on the air, no image from anyone's memory. "I can't read minds here," she blurted.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Jack replied, scrunching up his face. "The kids don't like it too much around here. Hope it's not a problem."

"No, no. It's great! Very peaceful." Freya stretched her legs to catch up to the colonel.

Leaning conspiratorially close, Jack smiled. "Besides, this ship kicks ass."

"Ship?"

oOoOoOo

Forcing his eyes open once again, John quickly took in his surroundings. At first he thought he was aboard the Daedalus. He knew it was an infirmary, judging by the lab coats and scrubs. However, the bed underneath him warmed and molded to his body, nearly coaxing him back to sleep. Everything was made sleek metal, warmed by pale yellow lights. Movement out of the corner of his eye snapped him to alertness.

"Hey," he said as Freya came closer.

"Hey, yourself." With a hand, she traced the edge of his bed. "You know, this reminds me of those race car beds."

John's mind cleared a bit as he focused on her face. "Mine was a rocket," he murmured.

"Not surprising, flyboy." Freya's eyes suddenly widened as she leaned forward. "Did you know we're in space!"

Smiling, John felt like he was near a live wire. "Had a feeling. So how much do you know?"

Frowning, the telepath hopped onto the bed next to her temporary partner. "I can't read minds here. Jack said it was some sort of neural dampener, or… something. I stopped listening when one of the sergeants accidently fired a zat gun and hit a passerby."

Grinning, John tried to sit up again. "Pretty cool, huh?" This time the bed sensed his need, and began tilting and bending to accommodate his request. Leaning back with a sigh, John glanced around the nearly empty infirmary.

"I can't believe people don't know about this! We're in space!" Digging in her pocket, Freya pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Apparently, the whole Strategic Genetics Council will declassify a lot of info next year."

Glancing over the letter, John tried not to give in to sleep. "The SGC, huh?"

"Yeah. And, get this, Lockton is the only contract they have. Can you imagine working with alien technology everyday? The SGC took the shape-shifter. I think they can help him, do you?"

As Freya droned on, John let her words wash over him. After all this time, he thought only Rodney could do that to him. Being around the Asgard tech, and Carson, made him feel safe.

"Ah! Yer awake, er… What is yer name, son?" Carson Beckett materialized out of nowhere. Again.

Smiling genuinely, the patient spoke. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, USAF. So you knew?"

"Aye. Has a wee bit to do with my abilities. Ye may ask Rodney about it when ye return." The doctor smiled, rubbing his hands together. "Are ye ready for another visitor?"

John frowned. "O'Neill?" Straightening, he picked at the blanket. "How about the IV, Doc?"

Shaking his head, Carson checked the port. "It stays in for a bit longer, Colonel. Now, the device – well, I'll let him tell ye about it."

"My turn for show and tell, Doc?" O'Neill peeked around the drawn curtain.

Nodding, Carson waved him over. "Now, no overexerting him, Colonel. I'll be back in twenty minutes with some food."

They watched the doctor leave. O'Neill drew the device out of his pocket. "Man, this thing's annoying. It's like it's obligated to switch realities." Placing it on a tray, O'Neill rubbed his hands together. "Okay. Let's start with your real name."

John sighed, but he felt relief as soon as he saw the object. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, USAF."

O'Neill's brows shot up, amused. "What d'ya fly?"

"Everything, sir," John said wistfully. "So why the cloak and dagger? I assume we're on an Asgard ship?"

"The Dirona, actually. So, they're in your reality too."

"This alternate reality is close to mine, but very different."

"No telepaths?"

John snorted. "Uh, no." He dipped his head toward Freya. "Sorry."

"No worries," she said distractedly.

"I'd tell you the whole story, Goa'ulds an' all, but Radek tells me your window of opportunity is coming up."

"I have looked through everything, Colonel –" As if on cue, Radek came walking briskly into the infirmary, files bundled in his arms. "Oh. H-hello, Major. I mean Colonel."

John looked quizzically at O'Neill. "Hey, Doc. What brings you here?"

The older colonel waved a dismissive hand. "Would you believe we got the better end of this exchange?" He mock punched Zelenka's shoulder. "Ol' Radek here has studied this thing for years."

"Yes, yes. I can tell you other me has gone to my hellish world." The Czech had a dangerous gleam in his eye. "I would feel sorry for him, yet he has done this thing to you. And betrayed Elizabeth. As far as I am concerned, he deserves what he gets."

O'Neill joined in the mischief. "Tell him! Tell him!"

"My wife. My work has made us very rich, and she lives in dream world. It is hard to say if this is the Kristyna he was looking for." Radek took the orb from O'Neill's hand. "She is horrible nagging woman."

"Yeah," the colonel grinned. "And right before they switched, she threw that device across the room."

John laughed hoarsely. "You mean he's stuck there?"

Both scientist and soldier nodded vigorously.

"Sweet," Freya replied.

Sobering, Radek handed the orb to John. "This will be somewhat tricky, but I will tell you how to get back to your reality."

"Also," Jack said, leaning on the bed. "It's gonna take a helluva lot outta you."

"Yes, yes. So we do this in stages, John."

Frowning at the eager device, John reluctantly nodded. "When do we try for the real thing?"

Radek shrugged. "Tomorrow. This will require much energy, and you must be well rested."

Sitting up, John shook his head. "You know, I was supposed to get discharged from the infirmary the night I showed up here." Smiling sadly, he glanced at his visitors. "Poor Brendan will have to deal with two Carsons."

O'Neill winced dramatically. "He's so dead."

oOoOoOo


	5. Chapter 5

Yeah. John and Brendan are birds of a feather, right? LOL Here's the end for now!

oOoOoOo

The session with the device tired him, but he felt cagey. Carson allowed him to walk around to ensure no sedatives would be used. After lunch, John roamed the ship with Freya. He'd never been on board an Asgard vessel. However, he was glad he didn't see one of the aliens.

"Brendan is kinda used to this," Freya said cryptically.

"Used to what? Body-switching?"

"No," she chuckled. "The hospital thing. He was more or less confined to a bed for two weeks after being kidnapped. The Judge wouldn't let him out of her sight."

"I bet," John said, thinking of his own mother.

"I thought I lost him then, but his mental abilities were – are – so strong. His mind works so much differently than yours, but I'll give you both a gold star for intensity. The way he sees the world surprises me every time."

John took a few steps in silence. "Believe it or not, I still surprise myself."

Linking their arms together, Freya bumped his shoulder. "I will say one thing: Brendan is horrible at math."

oOoOoOo

The next day, John Sheppard was ready to go home. They had transported back to Earth; Radek had found a niche on the Dirona, and a friend in Jack O'Neill. The SGC had reverse engineered ships using Goa'uld tech, and the Asgard came to help. Every available scientist was needed to assist the Genetics Coucil, in turn helping wayward people with abilities.

Radek told John that the John Sheppard he knew had been missing for some time. A ship had appeared out of nowhere; Major John Sheppard and his team went to investigate. They were never heard from again, and presumed dead. The colonel wanted to tell Zelenka he was right, and they were still on that ship, but he didn't have the heart. He still dreamed about finding his own body, starved and frozen, drifting through time and space.

When Brendan Dean came back, he would never know of such things. The overworked, meticulous agent would be better off with the telepaths and shape-shifters and mind manipulators.

The private hospital room was staged with flowers and balloons, the big window allowed the noon sun to warm the blankets. John suppressed a shiver, pulling the blankets over his legs.

Cradling the orb in his hands, John waited for the players to arrive. After dealing with the effects of the orb yesterday, he was sure he could better handle the manipulation of the device today.

A flash of red popped into the window, then the door suddenly opened. A woman closed the door softly, watching the hall from the sliver of glass.

"Well, Scout," she said breathlessly. "Your medical condition must be top secret." The woman finally turned to face him.

_:Oh God! This must be The Judge!:_ "Hey, mom."

The Judge arched a brow as she came to stand next to his bed. "Mom?" Placing her hands on her hips, she frowned. "What the hell is going on here, Brendan Dean?"

For a moment, John thought he had made a mistake. "I'm sorry?"

"First, Freya has to return my call to reschedule, and now, you're in a hospital across town guarded by soldiers. What did you do this time?" Paget's face crumpled as she cupped John's chin. "I promise I won't drag you out to Meersdon this time. Well, I can't, since I sold it. But you can stay at my place if you like. Look at me, I'm babbling! Oh, baby, you're so pale. Tell me you're not dying."

John's brows disappeared into his hairline. "What? No! I'm fine. They're just doing some tests."

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Do not _ever_ scare your mother like that!" Flopping into a chair, she put her head in her hands. "I wasn't sure what to tell your father. You know how he hates bad news."

Swallowing a large lump, John edged off the bed. Never in his life was he more compelled to touch a person. Reaching out, he put a hand on each shoulder and drew her up. It had been so long since he had seen his own mother...

Before he knew it, she had put her arms around his waist, and squeezed. John suppressed a moan; a couple of bruises were still tender. Rubbing her back, he tried to reassure her that everything would be fine.

Glancing up, he saw Freya standing with the door ajar. _You okay?_ she mouthed. At his nod, she backed out, possibly to stall Carson.

"I'll be home before you know it. Promise." John stood back at arm's length, studying his mother's face. _:Brendan's mother, John!:_ His own mother had the same features – dark hair, and hazel eyes – as he did. This woman looked nothing like Maggie Sheppard.

An ahem at the door announced visitors. Wiping at her eyes, Paget turned to face the new people.

"You must be Paget Dean. I'm Doctor Carson Beckett," the Scot introduced himself. "I've a few questions to ask ye." He motioned her outside.

Standing her ground, The Judge crossed her arms. "If it involves my son, you may as well say it in front of him."

Carson opened his mouth, but Freya answered. "Sorry, Mrs. Dean. I have to get a statement from Brendan about a case. It'll just take a minute."

Eying all three people suspiciously, Paget reluctantly left with Carson.

John scrambled onto the bed, palming the device. He glared at it's glassy surface nervously. _:What if this doesn't work? I don't think I can deal with The Judge. Didn't think her presence would affect me like this.:_

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Freya curled her hands around John's. "You'll do just fine." After a moment she laughed. "No, I'm not reading your mind; it's all there on your face."

John gave his most roguish smile. "Well, Freya McAllister, it was very nice to meet you."

The orb flashed brightly, then dimmed. Between one breath and the next, Freya felt his thoughts still and sharpen. Before she could utter a word of protest, it was too late.

John Sheppard was gone.

Hitting the call button, Freya caught the device as it slipped from lax fingers. Frantically, she searched the unconscious man's thoughts for a hint of life.

_:I can't believe McKay said that! He's so obnoxious and arrogant and self-centered! How does John put up with him? But Teyla is seriously hot – ouch! What was that?:_

Daring to open his eyes, Brendan peered through dark lashes. For a moment, he was sure McKay was trying a new form of torture. _:No, not Rodney.:_ Opening his eyes fully, the blurry face above him came sharply into focus. _:Freya! Are you a sight for sore eyes!:_

"Whoa! You don't have to yell, Brendan." Squinting at him, Freya took his hands in hers. "It's you right?"

_:Um, yeah.:_ "Yeah, I –" Brendan rasped. :Water?:

Freya poured a cup of water and handed it to him. "Traveling between realities and bodies and dimensions can make you thirsty."

"And galaxies!" he croaked.

Shaking her head, Freya hopped up on the bed. "It's good to have you back." It was very good to see and hear her partner again.

Sipping water, he blushed; Freya wouldn't stop staring. "It's me, okay? I don't know exactly what happened, but –"

They were interrupted by Carson rushing into the room, followed by his mother. "What's happened?"

"Scout? Are you all right?" Paget peeked around the doctor.

"Yeah, Judge," Brendan said quietly. "I'm fine."

His mother snorted. "Oh, so now it's Judge? Not mom?"

"What? I –"

"I'm sure he's very tired," Carson countered. "Now if you and Ms. McAllister would step out for a moment, I would like ta check ma patient."

Hopping off Brendan's bed, Freya grabbed Paget's hand. "Come on, Judge. Let's see who we can harass at the nurses' station."

"Well, I haven't had my ten o'clock coffee," Paget murmured as the door closed.

Turning to his patient, Carson smiled amiably. "Well, lad, how does it feel to be back home?"

Brendan leaned back against the pillows. "I dunno, Doc. One minute I'm at home. The next, I'm out on a balcony on an alien planet. And you know, McKay is stronger than he looks."

"Tell me about it," the doctor mused.

"And, worst of all, I feel like I haven't sleep in a week."

"Well, you'll be able to go home tomorrow. Right now," Carson flipped open a med chart, frowning. "Yer blood pressure is a wee bit low, and your ribs may give you some trouble. Are ya hungry?"

Nodding eagerly, Brendan settled comfortably in bed. "Starving. But honestly, I think I'll take a little nap first." _:Freya? Come back. Bring my mom, please.:_

The women entered the room, Paget wearing a stern expression on her face. Waving her coffee cup the length of her son's prone body, she frowned. "Your partner informed me you've been overworking again. And that colonel – O'Neill? – left a message for you. He said not to touch anything ever again. What does that mean?"

"Long story, mom."

"You know, Scout, I'd prefer it if I never see you in a hospital ever again."

"I know, I know." Holding out his hands for her to take, Brendan welcomed their warmth. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, kiddo." Freeing one hand, she shooed him over so she could sit on the bed.

"Did you know a Patrick Sheppard?" Brendan scooted over, wincing as he moved. _:What happened to me?:_

"I'll talk to you later, Brendan. The director's a little antsy today." Freya waved her good byes to the mother and son. She had memorized the canned speech Jack had given her; he knew Harper wouldn't rest until he found out everything. "Feel better soon!"

_:Oh, we are so talking later. I'll call you.:_ Sensing his mother staring at them, Brendan smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I know you hate it when we do that. Anyway... Patrick Sheppard?"

"Well, I didn't know him very well. That house across the bay? The one you and your friends insisted was haunted? That's where he lived."

"Really? Did he ever come to the parties?"

Paget smiled sadly. "No, I don't believe he ever did. He was married to one of your father's sisters."

"What?" Straightening slightly, Brendan pinned her with a glance. "Dad has sisters?"

His mother shrugged. "Two or three, I think. You know your da was never close to his family." Finishing her coffee, Paget considered her son. "Her name was Margaret, and she died a long time ago. An accident. She was thrown from one of his prized horses. After that, Patrick moved away, but never sold the house. They had no children."

Brendan felt his eyelids getting heavier. His parents used to tell him stories before bedtime, but none of them were true. He felt like he owed John Sheppard an explanation, even thought they'd never meet again. John didn't exist in this reality, but someone resembling him did. Now he knew the answer.

"You're not gonna finish that story with, 'and sometimes, if you listen carefully...', are you? Because I might get scared –"

Paget laughed heartily. Leaning down, she kissed her son's temple. "Go to sleep, Scout. You look like you need it."

Snuggling under the covers, Brendan drifted to sleep, thinking of towering spires, and endless seas.

oOoOoOo

Stay tuned for Brendan's side of this fiasco. :D Thanks for reading!


End file.
